Britain’s global influence may be in decline, but in one crucial area we remain world beaters: our love of chocolate. In 2016, analysts Mintel reported we Brits each ate 8.61kg of chocolate, edging our close, slightly queasy rivals Switzerland into second place internationally.
I have certainly been doing my bit for national pride (too much, insists my GP). I follow the Mayan god of chocolate, Ek Chuah, with such evangelical zeal that from single-estate, 90% Ecuadorian black gold to the crumbliest, flakiest corner shop staples, I am constantly eating chocolate. It is both a supreme pleasure and at times (desperate late-night garage runs, stealing from children’s party bags etc.), a pathetic compulsion.
Indeed, too often as a nation, and particularly at Easter, we blithely bolt down any old chocolate to…
